


good

by the__butcher



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Adoption, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Underage, Foster Care, Grooming, M/M, Rape, Shota, Shotacon, Underage Rape/Non-con, foster siblings au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29836329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__butcher/pseuds/the__butcher
Summary: Goro is Akira's beloved foster brother. Akira will do whatever it takes to teach Goro what it means to be good.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist, Background/Implied Kurusu Akira/Other(s), Background/Implied Kurusu Akira/Shido Masayoshi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	good

**Author's Note:**

> this is shota. THIS IS SHOTA. i cannot stress enough how much this is shota. if you didn't read the tags then please just read this: THIS IS SHOTA. THIS IS EXTREMELY UNDERAGE. A SIX YEAR OLD GETS FUCKED.
> 
> okay, carry on

When Akira hears Goro’s soft knock, he opens the front door to see his younger brother rather more tired than usual.

“Akira-nii-san,” Goro says, hugging to Akira’s side—but it seems a bit more perfunctory than usual, a little more dragged out of him.

“Hard day at school?” Goro just shrugs a shoulder, his small backpack sagging off his back slightly. He’s never been the most talkative about what happens at school, except the parts that paint him as the best and the smartest; the rest has always been Akira’s to figure out. “Well, it’s nothing that strawberry shortcakes can’t solve, is it?”

With that, Goro absolutely lights up, looking straight up at Akira with his bright eyes gleaming and a smile spreading on his lips. It makes everything worth it—he’d skip out on the end of school to make his little brother’s favorite treat any time.

“Let’s wash your hands, Goro,” Akira says with a nudge, and they go through the after school routine—put his backpack safely in his room just in case, wash hands together, and sit at the table, Goro’s head poking over the table. He’s a small child, and it makes Akira’s heart soar to see him sitting in the chair and kicking his feet in excited anticipation of the snack being placed in front of him.

Goro is stuffing his face as fast as he’s learned he’s able to get away with eating here, and his cheeks are puffed full with shortcake when Akira comes back into the room and says, “I also got you a present, Goro-chan. When you’re finished with your snack, we can open it.”

The way Goro looks up at Akira—with happiness, and with admiration, and with a little fear that this is too good to be true, that perhaps he should have learned better—breaks his heart a little, so he just ruffles Goro’s hair and lets him finish his cake at an even quicker pace.

“Wash your hands again, Goro—they’ll be all sticky with cake.” Goro pouts, but does as he’s told, too excited to get to his gift.

He’s completely silent as Akira hands him the silver bag with tissue paper stuffed in the top, and completely silent as he slowly pulls the paper out of the bag even as he’s nearly bouncing out of his skin with excitement. And Akira has to wonder—who taught him that, to hide his joy and couch his enjoyment for fear of potential disappointment?

He kind of wants to find whoever was responsible and punch them.

“Take it out, Goro-chan,” Akira says in a sing-song voice, getting excited himself.

Goro pulls out one of the items—and his face drops.

“This is for girls!” he says petulantly, dropping the small navy skirt back into the bag and letting the whole bag fall to the ground. “I’m not a girl!” His voice has gotten a little louder, a little shriller, and he’s crossing his arms with a pout.

Akira takes a deep breath. It’s not the boy’s—he has to—it’s his job to—

“Goro-chan,” Akira says, and he can’t help the dark, heated tone that’s taken over his voice. “Is that something a good boy would say when he gets a present? Is that something a boy who wants to get _adopted_ would say?”

Akira is looming over Goro now, and the way fear floods Goro’s eyes feels so right—but then the boy is saying, “No, no, I promise, onii-chan, I promise, I can be good—” and Akira takes another deep breath, straightening up.

He doesn’t want to scare Goro.

But Goro has to face the truth, and sooner rather than later, if he doesn’t want to lose this chance—that adoption isn’t guaranteed, not by a long shot. Mom and Dad trust Akira by now, enough to tell him how much of a burden he is on them financially, and it only gets worse when they don’t think he can hear—cursing at each other about how he’s not worth it.

And that was _after_ Sota turned eighteen and moved out. Only one mouth to feed then, only one boy to put through school, and still they hardly have enough. And then Dad learned about Goro, and took him in, too. Dad works so hard to accept kids like him, like Sota, like _Goro_ , to give them a safe place to live and parents they should be grateful for, and all they have to do—all Akira has to show Goro how to do—is be _good._

Still, Akira remembers how hard it is. Moving from institution to institution and family to family, having so much fear and anger and not knowing where to direct it. In that respect, Goro is even better than Akira ever was. He’s an absolutely precious child at six years old, so pretty and charming that complete strangers coo over him whenever Akira takes him out. He can be better than Akira ever was; he just needs a little help, a little push, from someone who cares.

“Goro,” he says, a little softer now. He puts his hand on the small boy’s shoulder; Goro winces at the touch, but Akira just rubs his shoulder gently until he’s soothed. “Should we go try on your present to see if it fits? I bet you’re going to look so pretty in it, Goro.”

Goro lights up. Akira will never get over that—how his mood can change instantaneously, how despite being smarter than Akira sometimes he still has the attention span of a six-year-old.

It was hard, at first, to know what would work with Goro. So much of what he likes and doesn’t seems contradictory and arbitrary, and like it changes with the wind. Thankfully, Akira has mastered the art of reading his foster brother. He knows exactly what went through his head at first: not any particular shame in wearing girls’ clothes, more the thought that girls have cooties and dressing up in girls’ clothes is therefore gross. He’s never seemed to like girls that much.

On the other hand, he loves it when Akira calls him pretty. He loves anything that makes him the center of attention, it doesn’t matter what; and if these clothes are the way to make that happen, then Goro will suddenly forget that he was initially grossed out by wearing them.

“It’s a uniform!” Goro says proudly as he pulls out the sailor-collared shirt. He stumbles over the word uniform a little, but Akira keeps his smile at the cute misstep to himself. “Not like the ones girls at my school wear, though,” Goro continues, talkative all of a sudden as he looks over the shirt. “Our scarf is blue, not red. And this collar is rounder. And…”

 _He’s so smart,_ Akira thinks fondly as Goro goes through cataloguing all the differences between the uniform he sees every day and this one. _So observant. He’s really going to go far._

“It’s different because you’re not like the girls at your school. You don’t want to be like them, do you?”

Goro wrinkles his tiny nose, and it takes everything Akira has not to melt at the sight. “No. None of them are nice to me. The other boys say Tomi’s pretty but she’s not really pretty at all—”

“You’re prettier than all of them, Goro.” The words make Goro preen, and Akira would worry about flattering the boy’s ego too much, but it’s just the truth. “And you’re more special than any of them, too, so you get a special uniform. Do you want to try it on?”

Goro hugs the bag to himself, suddenly protective of the garments. “I can get them on myself!”

It’s probably important for him to feel independent and like he has privacy, Akira thinks, so he says, “Okay—come to my room once they’re on so you can show me, okay?”

Goro beams at him and races up the stairs to his room, holding the bag close to his chest all the while.

In his own room, Akira sits on his bed and counts out his money left, thinking through how many shifts he’ll need to cover the impromptu gift and luxurious snack. Mostly, though, he’s just thankful he’s made friends with almost all of the clerks on Central Street. When Akira walked up to the counter holding a little girls’ clothes, she just asked if his family had a new foster daughter, and when Akira nodded, she just wished him well, saying something about how kind Akira was to take such good care of those kids and how she wished more guys were like him. Akira was in a hurry to get home.

He idly palms himself through his pants thinking about how shameful he felt buying those tiny, tiny girls’ clothes, and is only interrupted by Goro’s small knock on Akira’s door.

Then Goro steps in, and Akira nearly chokes.

The shirt fits perfectly at the shoulders, with the cute red scarf sitting pretty under the collar and setting off his garnet eyes so strikingly. And the knee-high socks are such an excellent touch, too, really showing off how thin his legs are, just the slightest and most alluring swell of his calf. But Akira can’t focus on that now, because his gaze is too occupied on how the top is a good bit too short. There’s a wide stretch of bare skin on his stomach showing, and it’s so smooth and looks so soft and sweet that Akira feels himself growing even more constricted in his pants.

Goro starts to move from side to side nervously, unsure what to make of Akira’s silence and intense staring, and in his fidgeting he causes the skirt of the uniform to twirl a bit, and—

Now Akira really does choke, because he’d forgotten that he’d slipped a pair of little girls’ panties into the bag at the last second. Nothing revealing, just a basic pair of white underwear, but revealing so much more thigh than Goro’s small boxers normally do. His tiny cock sits against the fabric in a small, visible bulge, and just the glance Akira gets of it as Goro’s skirt flares up is enough to make him feel hot all over.

“You put on the underwear,” Akira says, trying and failing to keep his voice from cracking.

Thankfully, Goro doesn’t seem to notice; he just says, “Mine were too long, they showed under the skirt. It wasn’t as pretty!” He seems proud of the observation.

“God, Goro, you—you’re so smart,” Akira says, feeling himself getting slightly out of breath. “Come here, Goro-chan, please, come here.”

Goro prances over to Akira, his socked feet making the gentlest taps on the floor, and the way the pleats of the skirt twirl with his movement is mesmerizing. He’s never found any little girl in their school uniform anywhere near as captivating, normally couldn’t care less about what any of them look like. Only Goro—only Goro could ever do this to him.

“Turn around for me, Goro. I want to see just how pretty you look.”

Happy now that he has Akira’s full attention— _but when has he not,_ Akira thinks—Goro does a slow twirl around, letting Akira admire the way the too-short top shows off the lean curves of his back and how his pert little ass looks in that skirt. By the time he’s turned back around, Akira just can’t keep his hands off him, pulling Goro in closer to him and running his hands up and down his torso, taking him in. One hand rubs Goro’s shoulder and down his arm and feels the silkiness of the scarf on his shirt, and the other starts to gravitate to the front of his own pants to slowly rub himself through the cloth and take in how Goro makes him feel.

“You make me feel so good, Goro,” Akira says idly. His hand that’s not giving his cock the lightest relief is petting Goro’s hair now, that silky long hair that’s so unique. “So pretty, so good. Such a good boy.”

Goro has been staring down at where Akira is hard in his pants and has watched Akira rubbing himself, but now he looks back up at Akira, eyes shining at the compliments. “Can I play with you, onii-chan?”

Akira swallows. _God,_ this kid will be the death of him.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can.”

He rearranges himself slightly, sitting up against the headboard of his bed and taking off his pants. Goro clambers up onto the bed too, and as soon as Akira’s settled he has his small hands all over Akira’s cock. He’s not doing anything with it, really—just touching it curiously, feeling the different textures of the shaft and the balls and rubbing the tips of his fingers idly through the wetness on the tip that’s seeped out.

“Come on, Goro,” Akira says. “You know how to be really good, right?”

A look that Akira can’t interpret flashes across Goro’s face. Confused, maybe? But then he looks into Akira’s eyes, where Akira is trying to convey all the adoration he has for his good, clever little brother, and says, “Mhm,” with a happy smile.

Then he shimmies down the bed so that he’s fully between Akira’s legs and, with his full concentration, fits his two little hands around the girth of Akira’s cock, before lowering his head enough that he can start licking the tip.

Kitten licks. Curious little laps, first tasting all the precome at the tip that he used to grimace at but that he’s gotten used to by now, then running his small, curious tongue under the foreskin. And then, when he gets bored of that, opening his mouth as wide as he can to try to take the head in. He can barely fit the very tip between his sweet lips, but it’s the effort he’s putting in—enthusiastically trying to fit his mouth around the top of Akira’s cock, his tongue working curiously, his little hands with just the tiniest pudge of baby fat on them curled around the shaft—it’s all that effort that makes Akira groan and mutter, “You’re doing so good, so good,” as he gently pets Goro’s hair.

It’s not enough to make him come, of course—not enough of a rhythm or enough pressure, Goro can be such a tease like that. But it feels incredible all the same—getting to look down at his wonderful little brother doing his best to be good for him.

“You’ve done such a good job, Goro,” Akira says, and Goro sits up. He’s an absolute _vision—_ he’s taking deep breaths for air after spending so long with Akira’s cock in his mouth, and his lips are bright red and abused from stretching to take in so much at once. Akira reaches out his arms, and Goro happily scoots back up the bed to be held against Akira’s chest.

“It’s time for me to make you feel good now,” Akira mumbles into Goro’s ear. “Are you ready?”

That strange expression crosses Goro’s face again, that hesitance. But then Goro nods and smiles again, and Akira says, “Yeah, I’m going to make you feel so good, Goro, just like this.”

He adjusts Goro so that the little boy is sitting nearly right on top of Akira’s cock. The skirt fans across Akira’s lap like it’s hiding something, and it _is_ , because the feeling of the girls’ panties that Goro is wearing against Akira’s bare cock is torturous and amazing. Akira can thrust up just a little and feel the swell of Goro’s ass against his cock, and he groans as Goro squirms to get comfortable and just grinds his ass even more onto Akira’s cock. He feels every moment of it, but the skirt covers his lap so perfectly, making it look like Goro is just a good little girl sitting in his brother’s lap.

“Grab onto me, Goro, grab onto onii-chan,” Akira says. Goro puts his arms around Akira’s neck and holds, keeping himself steady and upright against Akira’s chest. He’s so trusting, so loving, and his face is right there next to Akira’s—Akira can’t help but lean in to give him a kiss.

Such soft lips. Such soft, soft lips, unmoving under his because Goro doesn’t know what to do in a kiss, doesn’t like them too much, but lets Akira do it when he can’t control himself, when he just has to _taste._

When Akira pulls back, Goro’s wide-open eyes are staring directly into Akira’s, and Akira kisses him gently on the forehead as he smooths a hand against Goro’s stomach.

Akira has always had small hands. _Tiny girl hands,_ Sota once told him mockingly. But even so, when he stretches his hand as wide as he can, from thumb to pinkie, he very nearly stretches all the way across the narrowest point of Goro’s small waist. He’s such a tiny boy, and so delicate— _perfect._ Akira treats his body with the reverence it deserves, worshiping the smooth, creamy skin of his stomach as his hand inches up.

“Tickles,” Goro says, his cheeks already lit up with the most adorable flush. He squirms a bit more in ticklishness and the movement on Akira’s cock makes him groan deeply.

“But a good tickle, yeah?” Akira says, slightly out of breath. “Especially when I move here.” He slowly moves his fingertips up until they’re gently rubbing one of Goro’s nipples. The lightest pressure he can manage—that’s all it takes to really send Goro squirming, his face scrunching up like it’s hard for him to take. But Akira keeps rubbing, gentle but persistent swirls, until Goro’s small whining sounds and incessant movement on Akira’s cock make him too much to bear.

Akira grabs Goro under the arms and hoists him up a little, letting Goro keep his arms cutely wrapped around Akira’s neck for security. Akira pushes the shirt up Goro’s chest, revealing the smooth, naked expanse of his chest, flat and pure planes of perfect skin that’s rosy with a blush from all the attention.

As gentle as ever, Akira latches his mouth around Goro’s nipple, and slowly, softly, swirls his tongue around the nub. He sucks ever so gently on the tiny bud, circling it with his tongue until Goro is whining Akira’s name and practically squirming out of Akira’s arms.

Akira detaches from the nipple with a slick noise, admiring his handiwork: a red, swollen nipple, now fully erect from all the attention.

“Feels good, right?” Akira asks, and Goro nods, so Akira moves to the other one. Goro must be so sensitive right now, because it takes hardly a few seconds of swirling his tongue around the other nipple before Goro is grasping with tiny fists into Akira’s hair and whining for him again, _onii-chan, onii-chan,_ over and over. Akira would love to keep going past what Goro can stand, force him to take it and to feel pleasure like he’s never felt before—but then he removes his mouth, taking Goro in.

He’s such a good boy. An incredible boy. He’s flushed all over now, from the dark red spots on his cheeks to the subtler flush spreading down his neck to his collarbone and chest. The shirt falls back down over Goro’s chest, but Akira doesn’t want his handiwork to be covered up, so Akira pulls it up over Goro’s chest, leaving him just in the skirt and the socks.

“You look so pretty for me, Goro. Are you ready to take it off and feel even better?”

He already knows the answer, and is already moving to pull the skirt off as quickly as possible. Akira takes a moment to look at Goro from head to toe, from his slightly ruffled hair to the alluring false modesty of those knee-high socks, and, standing stark in the middle of it all, that pair of red girls’ underwear. His tiny cock has grown and hardened from all of Akira’s touches, but even fully erect, it’s no longer than Akira’s index finger, a little bump under the red fabric. Tiny, and perfect, and aching to be touched, Akira is sure.

So he lifts Goro up—lights, so incredibly light, Akira could lift him with one arm if he wanted to—and gently pulls the panties down off his hips, down his legs, until they fall to the floor. And there he finally is—naked, and perfect, and ready for Akira, his cock red and needy and waiting for Akira to give him what he needs.

Akira reaches over to his bedside drawer and hastily pulls the lube out—and the moment he sees it, Goro seizes up stiff, his face tight and tense and practically pushing himself out of Akira's lap.

"Hey, no, Goro, shh," Akira says, letting the tube fall onto the bed so he can pull Goro close to him. He soothes the small boy for a few moments until he's still and quiet; Akira starts at his shoulders, rubbing them gently, then rubs down his side, over his hips, onto his thighs.

When Goro's calm and ready again, Akira takes his small cock in hand. Holding Goro's cock in his hand is always a surreal experience—he knows how his own looks and feels in his hand, of course, and holding Goro is nothing like that. He can practically wrap one hand around the entire thing, and to touch him the way he needs to be touched, Akira has to grip his cock gently in a grip of a few fingers.

The delicacy needed is all worth it, though, when Goro lets out a whine and starts to unravel, his body going languid against Akira's torso as he moves his limbs in the unpredictable throes of pleasure.

"Feels good, right?" Akira says as he gives Goro's cock slow, languorous pulls. Goro nods with the sweetest sigh. 

"And this is going to feel good too, Goro, remember?" Akira asks, taking up the lube in the hand that's not jerking Goro off. "Sometimes it hits a little at first, but if you're good and patient, it feels good, too. Do you remember, Goro?"

And Goro nods, eyes closed in a look so vacant it can be nothing but bliss.

"Clever boy,” Akira praises. “So beautiful. So good.”

Because it’s true: Goro is an absolute vision, sitting here on Akira’s lap in nothing but his coquettish knee-high socks. And he knows exactly what to do, too—he sits in Akira’s lap with his legs spread wide, and Akira can do nothing but smile down at his beautiful baby brother as he gets out the bottle of lube.

He’s running low; he’ll need to go get more soon. Another shift he’ll have to take at any of the numerous jobs he juggles, more pocket money he’ll need to spend—but it’s all worth it. Anything to make Goro feel good; anything to make Goro good.

Akira gently presses a lubed finger to Goro’s hole, and the boy cringes at the cold and the unusual feeling—but he’s long gotten over his childish complaints about it feeling weird, Akira’s long since taught him just how good it can feel, so Akira just massages the rim until Goro’s relaxed enough that Akira can slowly and gently push his way in.

His hole is so small and so impossibly tight around Akira’s index finger, and when Akira pushes in a little more, and then just a little more, and a little more after that, the tightness and heat around his finger is almost painful. It feels impossible that his puckering hole could stretch any further than the size of his index finger, but it will; it has to.

“So good, baby,” Akira whispers into Goro’s ear. “You’re doing so good.” And Goro is panting, trying not to writhe in Akira’s lap, trying to stay still. “I’m going to put in another finger, okay?”

Goro squeezes his face even tighter, and he lets out a sharp cry when Akira pushes the second finger in.

“Shh, Goro, it’s okay,” Akira says. He lets Goro get used to the greater intrusion until his high-pitched whines have stopped, and then he starts to slowly scissor the fingers apart inside Goro, trying to stretch him even wider.

With his other hand, he takes hold of Goro’s cock again and starts to rub it up and down—and the way Goro jumps and whines at that, he must like the feeling.

“Good boy. One more.”

Goro takes this one much easier now, distracted as he is with Akira jerking his cock, and seeing the way the three fingers slide in and out of Goro’s hole so obscenely, Akira’s not sure he can wait any longer.

He should prepare him more. Three fingers doesn’t quite match the girth of Akira’s cock, and Goro’s hole is so impossibly small that it takes time to stretch it as wide as it needs to go. But Akira can hardly wait anymore; he’s been going crazy from the second Goro walked into the house after school. He has to be inside of Goro right now.

“You’re ready, baby,” Akira says, more to himself than to Goro. “You feel so good, Goro, you’re amazing.”

“Onii-chan,” Goro moans when Akira withdraws his fingers, and Akira shushes him.

“I’m coming, Goro-chan,” he says. His heart feels ready to burst at Goro’s adorable neediness. He’s about to give them both what they need so badly. “Here, come here.”

As Akira was prepping him, Goro had somewhat melted down Akira’s front, lazily leaning his head against Akira’s chest and holding onto his sides for steadiness. But now, Akira sits up straight again; he needs all his strength to get Goro exactly where he wants him.

“Lean your back against me, Goro, just like that,” Akira says, pulling Goro in close to him. Goro’s in his lap again, but now he’s facing away from Akira’s chest, and Akira is the one holding him where he wants him. He lifts Goro up to line him up over his cock—and for a moment, he simply admires.

Goro’s ass is a perfect, pert thing, two round and perfectly smooth globes of the softest flesh that it takes all of Akira’s self control not to sink his teeth into them. He can’t bite, but he can, and does, admire—admires the perfect curve of his ass, admires the way his hole gleams with lube when Akira spreads his cheeks, admires the tightness his hole has puckered back up into the moment Akira withdrew his fingers.

Akira lines his cockhead right up with that hole, and then, with the most careful and precise of movements, he cants his hips just slightly up and pulls Goro’s tiny body just slightly down, and then he’s inside him.

Just the very head, though. Already that’s enough to make Goro let out a breathy little groan, and enough for Akira to feel like he can’t handle it, like he needs to force Goro down to get himself all the way into that tightness that’s gripping his cock like a vice, like a _challenge_ that he wants to conquer.

But this isn’t about him. This is about Goro, who’s gripping Akira’s thighs like his life depends on it, who’s doing so good with the tip of Akira’s cock already inside of him. Akira says so out loud to him, tells him they’re almost there.

And slowly, with enough patience, it becomes closer to the truth. He arches up just an inch further into Goro, he stops and holds him up and lets him get used to the intrusion, and he repeats, until they’re nearly there and with a final satisfying motion Akira pulls Goro fully onto him.

For a moment, they’re still, panting for breath together; for a moment, they’re perfect, with Goro in Akira’s lap and Akira as close to Goro, as full inside Goro, as he can ever be.

“You’re mine, Goro, you’re all mine, you’re so perfect,” he mutters into the silence.

Then, with a deep breath, he lifts Goro’s light body back up, and then pulls it down, and the pleasure of finally moving Goro on him, of finally _taking_ Goro, is so great that Akira has to moan Goro’s name out loud.

It’s an incredible feeling, like nothing he’s ever experienced before. Sota always had him on his stomach or on all fours, like some sort of animal, but the way he lifts and lowers Goro makes him feel closer than ever to the boy. It’s the only way he can express just how precious Goro is to him, bearing his full weight and making him do nothing but take the pleasure that they’re both getting from bouncing Goro on his cock.

“Fuck—that’s it, Goro, yeah,” Akira pants, speeding up his pace. He’s starting to pulse his hips up to meet Goro’s ass each time he pulls the boy back down, forcing him impossibly deeper. And no matter how much he thrusts, the boy stays so tight and hot around him, never letting up, never letting him go.

“Goro, I’m close, god, I’m going to fill you up with my come, you’re going to be so full of me,” Akira rambles, hardly even aware of what he’s saying—he’s moving Goro up and down quicker now, pushing his hips up into him harder, and Goro lets out a cry at that, then another—the pleasure must be getting to him too, god.

“Onii-chan,” Goro cries out, and the way he squirms and tightens on Akira’s cock—that’s what finally sends him over the edge, filling Goro’s tight hole with come.

Akira holds Goro still for a moment and moans through the aftershocks, making tiny, aborted pulses up into the boy before he finally feels complete.

“God, Goro, you’re amazing,” Akira says, holding the boy tight to him. He’s still deep inside of Goro even as he’s starting to soften; he wants Goro to be full when he comes, too. “It’s your turn, Goro—now you get to feel good, too.”

It doesn’t take long. Goro is nonstop writhing and a litany of little noises as Akira takes his cock in hand and pleasures him with one hand, using the other to glide softly over Goro’s nipples. It’s with cries of “Akira” and “onii-chan” that Goro finally comes, his whole body shaking and his little cock spasming without releasing anything, coming dry.

“That’s it, baby,” Akira coos to Goro as he holds him through the aftershocks. There are tears in Goro’s eyes—it’s intense, he knows it—and it’s up to Akira now to clean him up and make everything better.

When he pulls Goro off of his now-soft cock, Akira takes a moment to admire the stream of come that leaks from his hole. Even as stretched as he had to be to fit Akira inside of him, Goro’s youthful skin tightens right back up, a red ring of irritated skin the only sign that Akira was inside.

Akira strips off the long socks and wipes Goro from head to toe with a wet washcloth, spending extra time cleaning all the come off his perfect skin. They’ll take a proper bath later, but for now, he knows Goro needs to rest. He gets him to drink a little water, and finally, they can settle back in.

They lay together on Akira’s bed, and Goro is asleep nearly the moment Akira curls around him protectively. Akira holds him tight anyway.

The way Goro’s curled up on his side, completely naked and with his hair sprawled across the pillow, is next to angelic. And wrapping himself around Goro, Akira can't help but feel just how tiny Goro is. How light his bones are, like a bird’s. How delicate he is, something that could so easily break if Akira wasn’t there to protect him.

Akira watches Goro sleep, listening to his soft snores, and he wonders if this is wrong. He knows, vaguely, that maybe other kids don’t do this. Other families don’t do this. But he’s never been quite like everyone else.

Sota told him that the very first day Akira came into this house; Akira was a delinquent, Sota said, and he was lucky the foster family had even considered taking him in temporarily. If he didn’t want to immediately be sent back to a group home—much less if he ever wanted the family to consider _adopting_ him—he’d have to show that he was willing to do whatever it took to stay here. He’d have to learn exactly what it meant to be good.

And Akira just wants to make others happy. He’s learned, over the years, that he’s good at that, when people give him a chance—and he’s so grateful this family gave him a chance. He’s grateful that Sota, who was understandably jealous of the new foster kid coming into the family, gave him a chance to prove that he’d do anything to make Sota pleased with him. He’s glad that Sota continued to give him those chances even when Akira messed up, all the way until he left.

And he’s glad that Shido-san—no, _Father,_ he thinks, not Shido-san, he still sometimes messes up no matter how many times Shido-san angrily corrects him and tells him to call him Father—he’s glad that Father gives him the chance to prove he can be good, too.

Not good enough to adopt; Akira has long since accepted that. He’s tainted, Father said, and always will be. But good enough to have a home for at least the next four years until he turns eighteen.

But Goro…

Goro is special, Akira knows. Goro came home with Father one day scared and shaking as Father announced to him and Mother that they were going to let a new foster child stay with them, and from the moment Akira first looked at that sad, quaking thing, he knew that Goro was different. Goro is special. Goro can be the son that Father always wanted, that Akira and Sota were never good enough to be, because Goro is even more special than him. As long as Akira is here to love him and show him what it means to truly be good, he’ll become what Akira could never be.

And for now, they have these moments. For now, Goro is his perfect little brother, and Akira is here to protect him, no matter what.

Akira pets Goro’s hair, and even in his sleep, the sudden touch makes Goro flinch, a whole-body startle. It fills Akira with a deep and violent urge to tear apart whoever it was who ever dared touch Goro, whoever taught him to be scared and to react like that.

But he pets Goro’s hair until the boy’s sleep is peaceful once more and until his rage simmers down again. He’ll show Goro enough love that he’ll never be scared like that again; he’ll sand away Goro’s rough edges until there’s nothing but perfection, until everyone sees just how special Goro is, and no one, not even Shido-san, will be able to help loving him.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trying to give fewer shits about certain things. so i wrote this without giving a shit about things like characterization or, i don't know, consistent background details, and didn't edit it at all, in fact didn't even read it after writing it. i hope you, uh, enjoyed.


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